


Tricks and Treats.  Drabbles 1-27/25.

by punky_96



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Gen, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: This drabble assortment covers a lot of territory and crossovers. It was meant to use the prompt in some way and to have a supernatural element. There were no other requirements. As you know I don’t strictly adhere to OTPs and sometimes I write scenes that are not happy.  The phrases were provided by Jah-728.  There are some flavors of True Blood, Harry Potter, OuAT, Castle, Bearblue, Melanacious, and probably anything else I’ve read pretty much ever.





	Tricks and Treats.  Drabbles 1-27/25.

_**Tricks and Treats. Drabbles 1-27/25.**_  
  
_**1\. Be afraid, very afraid. (454 words.)**_  
  
Nigel had one foot propped on the rail below the bar as he leaned back on the stool. His eyes were glassy, though he had a smile for her. “She sent you for drinks?” His eyebrows lifted as his focus turned on the pretty brunette.  
  
Uncertain of why he would ask such an obvious question, Andrea caught the bartender’s eye. Of course Miranda had sent her for drinks—she was at the bar wasn’t she? “Two 7 &7’s.” She held two fingers up to be sure he understood.  
  
Nigel’s hand on her shoulder sent a chill down her spine. “Be afraid, very afraid.” She could feel the press of his body against hers as he whispered into her ear.  
  
Her drinks settled in front of her, Andrea half turned to Nigel. “What are you talking about?”  
  
In her peripheral vision, Andrea saw Nigel’s head jut forward in a tell-tale motion as his fangs clicked out. “Remember when I said there’s a scale?” When Andrea nodded, he stroked his thumb across her bare shoulder. “One nod is good, two nods is very good.”  
  
Holding the drinks tightly in her hands, Andrea gulped and added, “There’s only been one actual smile on record and that was Tom Ford in 2001.”  
  
Coming around behind her, Nigel let his fingertips trace along her bare shoulders as he followed the down side of the scale. “Yes,” he purred and sent another chill down Andrea’s spine. “She doesn’t like it—she shakes her head. Then of course, there’s the…” He murmured in her other ear letting the word slip into nothingness.  
  
Andrea forced herself to remain calm as she ground out. “The pursing of the lips. Catastrophe. Yeah, I remember, Nigel.” She began to turn and felt his arm wrapped around her and holding her secure against the bar. He wasn’t touching her exactly, however he clearly wasn’t done talking to her.  
  
“I’m so very glad you’ve paid attention, Six.” He purred into her ear again, before continuing. “But tell me, what does it mean when her fangs are out like that?”  
  
Nigel dropped his arm and Andrea turned to face her boss across the room. “Um.” Andrea found that her throat was as tight as her hands around those drinks in her hand.  
  
“Be afraid, be very afraid.” Nigel nodded next to her as he watched their boss in action. “I guess he wasn’t watching for the signs.”  
  
Andrea knocked back her drink. “She wouldn’t?” Large brown eyes searched Nigel’s glassy ones. That hungry look was still on his face and his fangs were still out. “Would she?” She knocked back Miranda’s drink as well. “Oh hell.” Andrea turned to order two more drinks, before trying to approach her boss.  
  
  
  
  
  
_**2\. There are no such things as ghosts. (247 words.)**_ (Remember the phrase is the prompt, that’s not a guarantee that I didn’t veer quite far off course in what was inspired. Lol.)  
  
Standing over Miranda’s grave, Andrea fell to her knees. The burial had been days before, but she couldn’t stay away. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. So sorry.” Burning tears fell down her cheeks dripping down to the ground as she grabbed fistfuls of grass.  
  
“There’s no need to be sorry, Andrea.” Gasping at the familiar tone, the brunette looked up and around her, only to see Miranda leaning against her headstone like it was her desk in the office. The suit was the same one she was buried in. “You didn’t kill me.” When Andrea opened her mouth to protest, Miranda waved her hand in dismissal. “That bastard, Irving, possessed you my dear, dear Andrea.” Standing and stepping closer, the silver haired vision motioned for Andrea to stand. “Don’t be sorry.”  
  
Squeezing her hands into fists in an effort to not reach out for Miranda’s image, the younger woman shook her head. “How am I supposed to deal without you?”  
  
Wishing there was more she could do for her lover, Miranda advised. “Just keep breathing.” When Andrea’s tear stained face turned to hers once more and her bottom lip trembled, Miranda repeated it, “Just keep breathing.” Reaching out to ghost her fingertips along the side of Andrea’s face, Miranda smiled, “You’re a medium, Andrea. I will always be with you.”  
  
Breathing in and trying to savor the faint sensation of Miranda against her cheek, Andrea accepted that Miranda would always be with her. “Oh, Miranda, I love you.”  
  
  
  
_**3\. I tell you, it’s possessed. (788 words.)**_  
  
Shifting her pen in her mouth, Andrea typed furiously on her article as she endeavored to beat her deadline. Tucking her ankle behind the other, she leaned forward in her seat as she tried to capture the speed of her thoughts into complete phrases, if not sentences, before the jumble of ideas settled into nothingness like dandelion seeds blown into the setting sun.  
  
“Sachs.”  
  
Jumping slightly at her boss’ calling her name, Andrea tossed the pen to her desk as she pushed away to go see him. She just hoped that she had enough of the ideas captured that she could return to the draft and flesh it out.  
  
“You’re the best fashion reporter I’ve had in my tenure here, Sachs. There’s no doubt about it.” His compliment came out as a fact they both knew; however it was undercut by the frown as he looked at his computer screen. “I know you have a soft spot for the dragon lady.” When Andrea opened her mouth to protest, Greg looked sharply at her and then turned his screen so she could see it. “She is in every single image, Sachs.” He said the last like a disappointed older brother and shook his head like one too.  
  
Wringing her hands, Andrea motioned at the camera Trevor, tonight’s photographer, had left on his desk. “I tell you, it’s possessed.”  
  
Greg sternly regarded her for many long seconds. Then thinking of the excellent shots that they always got whether they had to crop around the dragon lady or feature her, Greg sighed. It wasn’t as if Andrea had taken the photos. Trevor had been under strict orders to not let Andrea so much as touch the camera. In fact the snarky fellow had told Greg that he spent most of the evening practically on the other side of the room, just to be sure.  
  
Nudging the camera with the end of his pen, Greg looked at the worried brunette once more. Her writing did not feature the alluring editor, even if the photos did. “Possessed, huh?” He nudged the camera again. “I don’t think it’s possessed, Sachs.” He scratched his head as he tossed the pen on the desktop. Looking at her suddenly, he narrowed his eyes. “Charmed, maybe. Not possessed.”  
  
Holding up her hands to plead her innocence, Andrea stuttered out. “N-n-n-no.” She shook her head and added, “Not me.”  
  
Tilting his head, Greg took in the young woman who had been recommended by the dragon herself. “If not you, who then? This only happens when you cover fashion events that she attends, Andy.” Leaning back in his seat, Greg waited while the younger woman tried to digest what he had implied and then rationalize it away from a truth that for all her longing, she seemed reluctant to grasp. “I know you don’t want to get your hopes up, but who else and why else would this occur every single time, Andy? If it’s not a clear message saying ‘ _look at me, Andrea_.’ Then I don’t know what would be any clearer.”  
  
Andrea’s eyes widened to the point that Greg seriously worried about her. “I don’t understand.”  
  
Greg smiled at her helplessness. “Hold out your wand. I’m going to do a little test.” Andrea slipped her wand from her sleeve and held it out to him. She easily recognized when he moved his wand that he was determining the last spells she had used. Nodding at her, he waved her wand away. “Now, let’s do a little detection spell on this and see what else we can see, hmmm?” Andrea bit her lower lip as Greg stood and waved his wand in a similar pattern at the camera.  
  
A smoky plume separated from the camera and then formed into a small version of the woman in question. Two pairs of intrigued eyes watched as the miniature woman looked at Greg with some disdain. “I’ve a message for Andrea.” It pursed its lips mirroring Miranda’s exact mannerism and sighed. “You are not her.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, the mini-Miranda disappeared.  
  
Looking at the stunned brunette, Greg smiled. “One question answered and so many more questions to take its place.” He pointed at the camera. “I’ll just get my things and then you can collect your message.” As he organized his pockets checking that he had everything, Greg glanced at a nervous Andrea. “You know she’ll probably be cross that it took you this long. I’d make sure to bring a little something sweet along with yourself.” Stepping around his desk and into the doorway of his office, Greg smiled at her. “It’s always better to know.” He nodded knowingly at the camera, before closing the door behind him.  
  
  
  
_**4\. There’s something strange about her. (256 words.)**_  
  
Serena watched the brunette following Miranda and smiled. It seemed the ugly duckling had become the swan after all. Emily would never admit it, but the woman who drove her quite mad actually made her life so much easier. Now all of the calls at crazy hours that could only be soothed by Emily went to the new assistant. Serena had not enjoyed her bed more since the day Andrea was told to deliver the Book. Turning back to her companion, the blonde frowned. “What is it now, querida?”  
  
Narrowing her eyes as the two women disappeared from view, Emily sighed. “There’s something strange about her?”  
  
Turning to lean against the desk Serena looked to the ceiling and then back down to her lover. “Still?” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the red head.  
  
“In a few days it won’t be my problem, I guess.” Emily turned sorrowful eyes up at her love. “What if she’s bewitched Miranda?”  
  
Standing and walking around the desk, Serena shook her head. “If only you could see what I see, querida. Miranda is in good hands.” Tapping her fingertips on the desk, Serena took her leave, “I’ll see you tonight.”  
  
Stepping into the elevator and then turning to push the button, Serena faced back down the hallway looking into the editor’s lair of Runway. Once the doors had closed she fidgeted with her hair in the blurry reflection of the door. “Bewitched or besotted.” She mused to herself. “Indeed Miranda is in good hands.”  
  
  
  
_**5\. Did you hear that? (501 words.)**_  
  
Andrea set the Book down and then tottered over to the closet, using her free hand to pull it open. Wrangling the clothes over her shoulder, the brunette sighed her relief and flexed her numb arm for a brief moment. None of Emily’s rules had ever forbidden taking a breath in the closet, so she felt reasonably safe in doing so.  
  
Feeling the air chill around her, Andrea wondered if she’d been in a daze longer than she realized. Straightening herself up, she moved to the edge of the closet and peeked around. Her breath seemed to steam up as if she had been outside on a snow day. The sounds of a woman talking as she came toward the front of the house startled her and she drew back to watch from the cracked open doorway.  
  
The sounds passed the closet and the sound of a door opening and closing drew Andrea’s curiosity enough that she stuck her head out into the hall in wonder. As far as she could tell the door had not moved since she had come in some minutes ago and she could not hear footsteps outside. Stepping uncertainly into the hallway, Andrea nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice on the steps behind her.  
  
“Did you hear that?”  
  
Turning Andrea’s brown eyes locked with Miranda’s blue eyes in the semi-dark of the nighttime house. The wonder and fear on the editor’s face mirrored Andrea’s and gave her the appearance of an owl in the moonlight. Swallowing hard and looking back toward the front door, Andrea shook her head not knowing what to say. “Y-y-yes. I did.” Uncertain of which surreal event to latch onto, Andrea kept her answer brief. Maybe that had been a ghost woman? Maybe that was a distraction and Miranda was possessed? Maybe she’d fainted in the hallway, hit her head, and was dreaming the whole thing.  
  
“Could you make out what she was saying?” Miranda stood and made her way down the stairs, rubbing her arms as she stepped carefully off the last step. “I have this nagging feeling that I need to understand what she was saying.”  
  
Taking a small step closer to the beautiful woman, Andrea shook her head. “I just heard the sound of her voice, not the words.” After another step forward, Andrea could see the concern in Miranda’s eyes. “The nights you stay late at Runway when there’s no event. You expect her here, don’t you?”  
  
Nodding Miranda stepped into Andrea’s personal space. “It’s hard to be here alone.” Her eyes met Andrea’s searching the depths of her soul in an instant.  
  
“You don’t have to be alone, Miranda.” Andrea tentatively stroked the back of her fingers down Miranda’s cheek.  
  
“You’re special, Andrea.” Reaching up, Miranda took hold of Andrea’s hand and twined their fingers. “She’s never come through when any of the others are here.”  
  
Squeezing the fingers tucked between her own, Andrea smiled. “Maybe we can find out what she’s telling you together.”  
  
  
_**6\. Where did she go? (820 words.)**_ Assumed Cerulean Speech is part of an established Mirandy fight.  
  
During the speech, Andrea had closed her eyes. She had willed the words to stop, the others to not be in the room with them, and for the fashion driving a wedge between them to be gone. The two belts were so alike for most situations and purposes they were the same damn thing—a teal leather strap with holes on one end and a metal buckle to secure it on the other end. With a swish and flick they could be the same belt. Andrea wasn’t sure where they had gone off course, but living in the muggle world had certainly taken its toll on the both of them. So focused on leaving the wizarding world behind, Miranda had become obsessed with a purely muggle enterprise and the unending details surrounding it. Andrea knew that for the cover of a fashion magazine that the buckle mattered, that the size of the font and the slightest change in its placement mattered. However that was not what Miranda was truly upset with and Andrea could not be bothered anymore.  
  
Opening her eyes, Andrea took in the wide-open field of her imagination. Rarely did she visit this place and never before had she taken someone along with her. Kidnapped really; however Andrea felt that the other woman had hijacked their lives so she thought it was only fair. After all they were inside a mental bubble of time that in the end no one except them would ever know about.  
  
“Andrea? Where are we?” Miranda stalked in a circle and then stood facing her partner with arms crossed over her chest. The fury in her eyes was unmistakable, but Andy did not flinch.  
  
“Don’t worry, no one knows we’re gone and you won’t lose a precious minute of your time at Runway.” Andy dragged the syllables of the magazine out like Miranda did her name.  
  
Miranda narrowed her eyes and shifted her weight on her hip. She had no way of knowing where they were and her wand was in her desk in any case.  
  
“After the war you wanted time, some space.” Andrea looked around the area they were in and allowed its peace to ground her. “I was happy that you found something to get up for in the morning. I was so glad to see that you found something precious to love in this world.” Tears filled Andy’s eyes. “Every step fashion forward for you has been a step away from me and the girls.”  
  
Miranda opened her mouth, but Andy held up her hand. She needed to get all of this out once and for all. Seeing the personification of pain in her partner’s aspect, Miranda closed her mouth and let her arms dangle at her sides.  
  
“You said I had to start somewhere, that I had to find my own way as you did. I am trying, Miranda. I am trying to be a part of your world. I know that your persona at work is harsh, however this little display with the bargain bin and the fashion history lesson? You’re punishing me and I honestly don’t know what for. You’ve created this elaborate speech that isn’t even based in fact in order to humiliate me in public.” Andy’s brown eyes searched Miranda’s face for a reaction, but her walls were completely up. “The twins have decided to stay abroad for their Masteries. If you cannot or will not communicate with me, then I will join them. They want so very much to be adults, but it isn’t easy to navigate the bridge between the wizard and muggle worlds. I can help them and keep going on.”  
  
Miranda opened her mouth to speak and once again, Andrea held up a hand to stop her. Pursing her lips and crossing her arms back over her chest, Miranda scowled at her wife.  
  
“Anything you say right now would be from panic. You’ve never liked change that wasn’t on your terms, but I won’t deal with this shit any longer. You’ll be able to find me, if that’s what you want to do.” Andrea closed her eyes and willed them back into the moment in time they had left. She opened them again, taking in the office around them, her only friend here, Nigel, and then the thunderous look on Miranda’s face. The speech was over and Andy was done. In another blink she was gone.  
  
“Where did she go?” Nigel asked as he stepped next to his long time friend.  
  
Unable to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened, Miranda stepped forward and snatched the belt out of Serenity’s hand. “This one.” She practically growled. “That’s all.”  
  
Hustling out of the room with the clothing racks and a sense that they had just missed something vitally important the team rushed from Miranda’s office. “But where did she go?” Nigel muttered to himself as he passed the assistants’ area.  
  
  
_**7\. Don’t go in there. No one ever goes in there. (579 words.)**_  
  
Quiet as she could Andy turned the key in the lock and slid the door open. She resisted the impulse to slip her heels off to walk in stocking feet. Her hands were too full anyway. Closing the door, the brunette took a moment to look around her at the dragon’s lair. She tried to remember what Emily had told her, but she wondered if the first assistant hadn’t given her false information. She didn’t know the other woman well enough to determine if she’d set another of her kind up for failure. Hearing a sound, Andy hugged the book to her chest and looked around. Seeing the closet door, she made her way there first.  
  
Dry cleaning safely stashed, Andy couldn’t explain the chill bumps covering her skin as she stepped back into the foyer. There were two tables with flowers on them. The young woman found herself at a crossroads and wondered if the devil herself would appear.  
  
Hearing a sound down the hall, the brunette craned her neck. Perhaps Miranda was in the room at the far end of the hallway and she should bring it to her. After taking two steps, Andy heard the clear sounds of whispered arguing and she stopped on the spot. Turning a full circle, the nervous woman saw no one, but realized that the stairs lead up along the wall now in front of her. Looking up, Andrea saw twin red heads peering at her over the railing. Their blue eyes locked on her, however when one opened her mouth to speak the other elbowed her hard.  
  
Narrowing her eyes at the assistant, the more aggressive twin pointed at the table on the stair side of the foyer and then at the book clutched in the assistant’s hands.  
  
Andy raised an eyebrow in an unwitting imitation of their mother and felt her defiant streak returning. She held the book out as if to put it on the indicated table and let her eyes query for approval. When the youngster nodded, Andy pulled the book back to her chest and looked down the hallway where she’d heard the noise earlier.  
  
The angry twin pursed her lips returning the Priestly imitation and gripped the railing hard with her fingers. If the woman would not do her will, then whatever happened would be her own fault.  
  
Andy stepped a handful of steps down the hallway into the darkness. When two small hands gripped her wrist in a vice, she nearly jumped out of her skin and barely stifled her scream. Looking down at the elbowed twin, the brunette searched her eyes for an answer.  
  
“Don’t go in there.” The youngster whisper begged her.  
  
Above there was a hiss. Andy and the girl’s sister looked up at her. “No one ever goes in there.” The steely voice floating down to her from the third floor sent a fresh wave of chills through the assistant’s body and she wished it wasn’t so close to Halloween. It always put her on edge when the barrier between the worlds was thin.  
  
Andy made to pull away from the grip on her wrist.  
  
“Please, it’s the full moon and she likes you.” The brunette whipped her head around to look at the small redheaded girl in wonder. Her words didn’t make sense. Just as she was about to query, the girl tugged her back down the hallway. “She’d never forgive herself for hurting you on the full moon.”  
  
  
  
  
_**8\. Turned out the lights? (263 words.)**_ Perhaps not supernatural, but terrifying nonetheless?  
  
Inside the large cavern the models were suspended from climbing harnesses and the light was waning. The shoot had just finished and everyone was breathing easier as they packed up their things. Deeper into the winding passageways there were tombs, however they didn’t need the mummies for the runway so they had only ventured into the main chamber with its eerie crack of light coming in from above.  
  
Suddenly the lights that had been brought in for them flickered and then went out.  
  
As they all looked at each other in shock the clouds and the sun continued to shift. Quickly cell phones and lighters were pulled out. The sunlight faltered and everyone could hear the heartbeats of the others. Small screens of light appeared and fingers held the flame on lighters. It wasn’t ideal, but they could make do until they could restore the main light power that had been brought in.  
  
From the back a fluttering of wings and bodies began, which sent ice down the veins of most of the Runway contingent. Bothered by the lights, the bats swirled Hollywood style as they fluttered close and then continued on their way to begin the evening’s hunt. Squeals and jumping were followed by complete darkness. Screens were cracked. Lighters had slide when dropped and then wedged in unseen rocks.  
  
“Who turned out the lights?” Miranda’s voice was the lowest, most icy, and terrifying thing that any of them had ever heard. While they agreed with the sentiment, they still hoped that Miranda never found the person responsible for their current predicament.  
  
  
_**9\. Please tell me that’s your hand on my back? (274 words.)**_  
  
Darkness, like the color black, had many levels, gradations, textures, and connotations. In the movie theater the darkness tended toward a sort of grey made thin by the light of the big screen. The corners still held shadows where romance and monstrosities could mingle. The noises of people eating, whispering, and shifting in their seats covered the hidden sounds of things that go bump in the night—whether good or bad.  
  
The music shifted and the scene followed the naïve heroes out into the forest behind the house where the noises had come from. The grey dark of the theater veered sharply toward the ebony of full dark. Hearts stuttered inside chests. Fingers inside lovers paused as the whole theater held their breath for the next ten steps and hovering over the next notes that would signal doom or downfall.  
  
Suddenly sitting up straight the fashionista hissed, “Please tell me that’s your hand on my back?”  
  
Popcorn nearly at the mouth, her companion turned, “Wha--” Letting the kernels fall to the decorated floor, the hand shot out to grab the fashionista. “Oh my god! Get out of here!”  
  
The theater around them erupted in chaos as people jolted in their seats—some panicked and others amused. Until the lights came on and draped over the fashionista’s seat was a creature so foul the story of its existence has never been told.  
  
Much later outside, the fashionista turned to her companion, “So that was not your hand?”  
  
A solemn shaking of the head was the initial answer followed by a grateful comment. “I’m so glad you asked though. It was coming for you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
_**10\. I didn’t write that. (Ghost writing) (624 words.)**_  
  
_I read this when I was trying to begin this particular prompt.<http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/jul/04/how-write-modern-ghost-story>_  
  
One day she was there and the next she was not. At least to the world at large that was how it seemed. I looked for her, even delaying my return from Paris two whole weeks. The world thought I was mourning over the loss of the marriage that had never held any joy on either side.  
  
They did not know my mind had gone, taking my heart with it.  
  
The first night I tossed and turned, unable to find peace, until the temperature dropped and the covers lifted behind me. I felt the chill press against my skin and finally I breathed easy once again. Tears filled my eyes with their stinging, yet I did not turn into her embrace.  
  
My bed, like her room, was empty in the morning.  
  
I walked the streets of Paris with her steps echoing behind me on the cobblestones, her laughter ringing against the stained glass of Sainte-Chappelle, and her hair blowing against my cheek atop of Montmartre.  
  
At the end of a fortnight, Nigel trundled me off to the airport with the bags under my eyes as company.  
  
I can feel her absence in my chest. The twins come and go leaving me with kisses. Runway revolves around me and my every whim. Yet all of life turns to ash in my mouth.  
  
Emily, my first assistant, waits for me at the elevator door. Its ding signals a new round of this existence and I step forward a list on my lips.  
  
I don’t know how time progresses, for I feel that it has gone backwards to a time before her.  
  
Emily is excited for Paris. She’s interviewing the new her.  
  
I have to wonder if it was real or if the loss was only in my mind. Maybe none of it happened? Maybe it is all still yet to come?  
  
The mess of a girl standing in the assistant’s area shocks me and I pretend to ignore her as I breeze past. Her hair is brown. Her loafers are atrocious. Her curves are so real that I have to sit down.  
  
_I’m always with you._  
  
The writing is precise and familiar. I reach out to touch it and then pull back afraid my only link to her will vanish.  
  
The look on my face draws a concerned Emily fully into my lair. I look up at her in wonder.  
  
“I didn’t write that.” Her words send a now thrillingly familiar chill down my spine.  
  
Ignoring what I already knew, I ask, “Who’s that?”  
  
Looking around, Emily’s shoulders drop. “Noth—I mean, no one. I was pre-interviewing her, but clearly she’s…”  
  
Glancing back down to my beloved’s writing, I hear myself ordering her, “Send her in.”  
  
Emily’s look of shock feels repeated somehow, as if I’ve played this scene before with her.  
  
The new girl fumbles into my lair holding out her hand, smiling with her beautiful brown eyes.  
  
Glad to be sitting down, I slip my glasses off my face and regard her for a few seconds too long, but I am uncomfortable in this spell of awkwardness. I close my glasses, one arm at a time, and settle them on the desk. Looking back at my desk, the paper with its words connecting her to me is gone. Instead I see a resume.  
  
“This is going to sound so weird,” The young woman starts off shyly, before continuing on, “but I feel like I’ve met you before.”  
  
I close my eyes torn between the fear that I am crazy and the knowledge that she might truly be with me again. My heart’s impossible theories are all surging back to the surface and I know in that moment that I am well and truly mad.  
  
  
  
  
_**11\. They say it’s haunted by an assistant who died on the job. (184 words.)**_  
  
Andy rushed forward with the skirts from Calvin Klein, the Boogie Boards, and a tray of piping hot Starbucks. She gasped when someone grabbed her elbow from behind stopping her from barreling into the rare open and waiting elevator. “Best not to go in that one.” The hand dropped away from her arm as the doors closed.  
  
The brunette rounded on the person who had just thwarted her trek back to the dragon’s lair. “What the hell?” She searched his face for an explanation that she likely wouldn’t care about, but felt the need to demand.  
  
“They say it’s haunted by an assistant who died on the job.” The man was part of the security team and seemed to be sincerely trying to help her. He pushed the button to call the next elevator for her and then held his hand across the door just in case it tried to close before the exasperated woman could step in with her precious, imbalanced cargo.  
  
“Murdered?” She joked, thinking of the days when she had first met Miranda.  
  
Solemnly, the man shook his head, “Heart attack.”  
  
  
  
_**11a. In a Compact in her Purse. (866 words.)**_ (A special shout out to Jah and Du for this one!!!)  
  
Emily and Nigel shared a look over the schedule at her desk as Andrea raced ahead of Miranda in order to get the coffee on the desk in time. It reminded them of pathetic humans racing for cover against the leading edge of night in a town full of zombies. With a nod at each other, they began their own version of battening down the hatches.  
  
Andrea tottered back toward her desk hoping to sit down and look the part of perfect assistant, even as she knew the dragon had been breathing at her back. “Eeeek! What?” Andrea actually squealed as Nigel grabbed her elbow and practically shoved her into the kitchenette.  
  
Nigel lowered his face to look at her over his glasses, “She’s wearing Josephine today. Stay in here until I come for you.”  
  
Her jaw left hanging open Andrea tried to find the fashion rack with a Josephine on it in her mind. So far she knew Michael Kors and Vera Wang, both easy to spell. She had taken to keeping a list for the harder ones like Gabbana and Demarchelier—not only the spelling but adding a Dolce in parenthesis or photographer. It was all just so much to take in. She was certain though that the Devil in Prada did not wear anything from anyone named Josephine.  
  
The list of commands passed the kitchenette by with a Emily wake that sounded like an echo of ‘yes, Miranda.’ Stuck in the kitchenette, Andrea could easily imagine a foggy scene with the Miranda echoing off unseen ships in the night. Shaking her head, Andrea sat down on one of the so shriek chairs that was far from comfortable. She clearly needed more sleep.  
  
Later when Nigel had collected her, Andrea had asked him about Josephine. Shaking his head, Nigel literally poked his head out of his glass door into the hall and looked both ways. Then he had dragged her to the farthest corner of his office and pulled out a small photo book. In the first image, Miranda in her power suit stood over her desk with one hand on the surface, the other on her hip and a come on if you dare with the devil look in her eyes. Nigel’s finger landed on the pendant around her neck. ‘Celeste,’ he had tapped the pendant as he said the syllables.  
  
Flipping the page, Nigel revealed Miranda sitting this time at her desk looking over the top of a compact as she did her lips. The fire in her eyes was somehow felt even though the photo was clearly more than a decade old. ‘Rachel,’ he had pointed to the compact halfway taking Miranda’s focus from the lens.  
  
Shifting to the next photo of the open two, Nigel sighed and shook his head. Andrea half expected him to rub his bald head like he was some kind of Buddha to grant his own luck. She wasn’t sure why they’d need it, but the reaction from both he and Emily had been clear that morning and these photos somehow explained why. “Josephine was the first assistant when Jeremy had been caught cheating.” He didn’t remind Andrea that the man had been Miranda’s first husband and the father of her children. He knew she’d know exactly whom he had meant. “It was also the first time that Irving tried to overstep his bounds. Josephine was Jeremy’s lover and Irving’s spy. In the end Miranda won and Jospehine…” Nigel paused as he thought how best to say the next part. “Well, she had a heart attack.”  He tapped the long necklace Miranda wore in the picture and today.  
  
Andrea blinked once, then twice, and even went so far as to blink a third time before she shook her head in the hopes that the pieces would line up when they settled in her mind once more. “The one who had a heart attack in the elevator?” She wasn’t sure why the guard’s words came back to her from the previous morning, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were important here.  
  
“Who told you?” Nigel asked quietly.  
  
“The guard wouldn’t let me get in that elevator yesterday.” Andrea could not understand why it was important, but clearly it was. Nigel looked like he might go downstairs and kiss the man before he even finished this conversation. “Nigel, I don’t understand. Are you telling me that Miranda has named her jewelry and compact mirror after her former assistants?”  
  
Nigel pursed his lips. He had never liked having to say this in plain English, but here he was again. Emily was chained to the desk and it was the only way to make sure that Six wouldn’t step in it any extra on a Josephine day. He didn’t want the ugly little duckling to become Miranda’s next lucky charm. She was well on her way to swan, if she only had a few more months. “Only the ones holding the souls she’s taken from those assistants.” Pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Nigel sighed and then looked up at her. “Of course she hasn’t named them. We have, so don’t you ever let her know.”  
  
  
  
  
  
_**12\. You want to do a photo shoot in a haunted house? (314 words.)**_  
  
Nigel looked at his newly promoted Assistant Art Director and frowned. “You want to do a photo shoot in a haunted house?” He pointed to the images she had shown him on the screen.  
  
“Have you seen Vivienne’s new collection? The lines and colors would be absolutely perfect with that house as the backdrop.” Emily’s tone had the certainty of the uninformed and Nigel sighed back at her.  
  
Wanting to show her respect and that he did take her seriously, Nigel looked again through the photos on the screen as he tried to think of what he could say. “Which photographer would you pitch this to? You know that Patrick won’t go within miles of this place.”  
  
Fixing him with her ‘ _I have already thought of everything, so just say yes_ ’ look, Emily almost rolled her eyes. “Horst Diergerdes.”  
  
Inwardly cursing her, Nigel had to agree that she was right. His knack for fairy-tale scenes with a dark side would make him the perfect candidate. “Models? You know that they are a superstitious bunch that are a fright away from fainting on a good day.”  
  
Raising an eyebrow at him, Emily taunted him, “You forget where I spend Saturday nights, Nigel. I’m sure that the girls would love to come out and play. They may not be our usual models, but would that be so bad?” Nigel shivered as he thought of Emily’s other life and spending several hours with her fellow mistresses in a dark, creaking, supposedly haunted house.  
  
Spluttering against his sudden spike in arousal, Nigel lodged his last attempt to thwart her plan. “You have to get Miranda to approve it.”  
  
Tossing her head back, Emily let out a crack of laughter that sent a chill down his spine. “Oh, Miranda just adores Lenore.” Facing her friend and boss with a smug look, Emily assured him. “I’ll set it all up.”  
  
  
  
_**13\. It’s a haunted house! Of course the ghosts are going to photo bomb. (152 words.)**_  
  
If Nigel had any hair, then he’d be pulling it out at that moment. Setting a coffee down on the corner of the large light table, Andy took in the stressed countenance of her friend. “What’s up?”  
  
Shaking his head as if to rid it of the images he’d been looking at, Nigel sighed. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to use any of the shots.”  
  
Coming around to stand next to him the tall, brunette leaned over to look at them. “What’s wrong with them?”  
  
Spreading out the prints, Nigel waved at them, “They are in absolutely all of the shots!”  
  
Looking down at the spectre, Andy smiled. “It was a haunted house! Of course the ghosts are going to photo bomb.”  
  
Nigel turned and crossed his arms over his chest to fix her with a look that she hadn’t seen in many months. “You tell her about it then.”  
  
  
  
  
_**14\. Please tell me that’s not blood. (549 words.)**_  
  
Exiting the elevator, Miranda slipped her large glasses off and tucked them into her handbag. Rattling off her instructions, the silver haired vampire breezed past her assistant. The sound of Emily’s pen scratching away at the paper followed her and she timed her words to be just that much faster than the woman’s hectic writing. She really wanted that paratrooper spread to work, but so far their efforts had been lackluster. Parent conferences were coming up at Dalton. She wondered if Gwyneth had lost any of the weight she needed to grace the front cover or if that too was destined to be a disappointment.  
  
Miranda had just reached the assistant’s area, when the enticing scent hit her nostrils. Closing her eyes in disgust, Miranda turned and dumped her coat and bag on Emily. Turning on her heel away from the assistant and the delightfully entrancing creature loitering pitifully in the corner, Miranda had just entered her office sanctuary when her fangs clicked out and her body readied for the feeding that she had been denying herself too much as of late. Now was not the time.  
  
Stepping into the office, Emily updated Miranda on the tasks she’d been given previously.  
  
“Who is that?” Miranda wanted to ask _what is that_ as she trailed her fingers along her cheek, down her neck and then along her chain. She wanted to know what the woman was even more than whom; however she knew that she could not ask that question.  
  
“Oh, that, her. Don’t worry.” Emily huffed dismissively as she tried to cover up the woman’s presence. “She’s hopeless. HR was having a laugh.” The red head rolled her eyes.  
  
“Send her in.” Miranda purred before she could help herself.  
  
Emily’s eyes went wide as she stopped her prattling and took in the sight of a fang-bared Miranda licking her lips.  
  
For a nerve-wracking five minutes, Emily trembled at her desk afraid that she had sent in a lamb to a lion, before she consoled herself that at least it hadn’t been her own person on the other end of that hungry look. The young woman stormed out wiping her eyes and grabbing her hideous briefcase. Emily took consolation in the fact that she was moving under her own power, which meant that she wouldn’t need to call the ‘ _cleaners_ ’ to deal with the body.  
  
Sitting much more comfortably in her seat, Emily wondered if Miranda would need something other than her usual _StarBloods_ after that fantastic fang display.  
  
“Emily.” The first assistant wasn’t even sure if her name was spoken aloud or if it was just transmitted to her brain at shiver level sending a thrill through her body. In any case, she jumped up and headed into Miranda’s lair. Running her thumb and first finger along her bottom lip, Miranda gave her assistant a half lidded look and lazy smile. “Get her back, Emily. I want her.”  
  
Jumping inside her skin as she took in that look of slightly sated hunger, Emily squeaked and then turned and ran down the hall toward the elevator. Taking a deep breath, Emily pressed herself against the back wall of the lift and fervently prayed. “Please tell me that’s not blood.” As she replayed the image of Miranda slowly cleaning her bottom lip.  
  
  
  
  
_**15\. I never noticed that door before. (1038 words.)**_ Some sort of miscellaneous ‘verse with wolfish and fae-ish… keeping in mind I’m not sure if I’m making up a creature or half remembering and mish-mashing… I do know I’m kinda thinking of Blackgrl71’s fic and Bearblue’s fics, but I haven’t actually read either in a long ass time. Initially I was thinking half-fairy and half-were ala the Sookie Stackhouse BOOKS, but at this point I really don’t know what to tell ya. Hmm. My notes evolve as I write, can you tell? Hahah. So I’m gonna go with Siren for Miranda or at least half-Siren, because I think that would be so hot.  
  
Miranda Priestly missing—her daughters and Cara freaked within hours. They had called her friends and co-workers trying to track down the woman’s last known location. The police would do nothing until at least 24 hours had gone by. The press, well, they picked up the news story and ran and ran and ran.  
  
The theories ran from _Murdered Editrix_ to _Kidnapped for Drug Money_ to _Elopement_ to _Priestly Pod Person_. It was all a little surreal and even the twins unplugged the television, their computers, and let their phones die. Any real news for them could go through Cara or be delivered in person.  
  
Her friends and co-workers looked for her where they could, but there were really only so many places to hide within the building. They called London, Paris, Los Angeles, Milan… everywhere that had even the smallest little strip of wooden planking that could be called a runway.  
  
Miranda’s disappearance had been noticed at 6am on Tuesday morning. Late Thursday evening, some 66 hours later, Emily turned wide eyes on Nigel and spluttered on her own thoughts until he crossed over to her and smacked her on the back.  
  
“Andrea Sachs.” She spat the name out, like the very name had choked her.  
  
Raising an eyebrow at the red head, Nigel checked the glass surface of the light table to be sure she’d not just hacked up the letters in a pile of slippery goo. He stepped to the side of her and leaned against the light table. Crossing his arms he prompted her to continue.  
  
“No one has been able to get a hold of her.” Emily blinked at Nigel willing him to connect the giant full-moon sized dots.  
  
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nigel sputtered out as images romped through is mind.  
  
“Don’t tell me you don’t think it’s possible.” Emily rolled her eyes at her companion.  
  
“Possible for them to be together finally, yes, yes, of course, it’s possible.” He rolled his eyes right back at her—because DUH. “That doesn’t explain why either or both would go missing.”  
  
“Andrea is not fully wolf, Nigel. I know you saw her markings practically dancing and flying off her skin whenever Miranda was nearby.”  
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nigel sighed. “Don’t act like this is all Six’s fault. It’s not like Miranda wasn’t having to stop herself from whistling right and left after her.”  
  
Dropping her jaw as she looked at him, Emily finally managed to explain her reaction with a question. “Do you think that’s why she stayed in Paris? Did Miranda whistle for her?”  
  
Resting his hand palm flat on the light table, Nigel drummed his fingers across it once. “Well, that would explain the push-pull tension when they returned.”  
  
Not wanting to go alone, Emily asked, “Should we check Miranda’s place again or just go to Andrea’s?”  
  
Checking the time, even though he knew it wouldn’t matter, Nigel pushed away from the sturdy surface. “We’ve been through Miranda’s place fifty times. Let’s just go to Six’s. Call a cab and I’ll grab your stuff.” Nigel already had his jacket over his arm and was shooing her in front of him.  
  
Wondering what exactly Emily had threatened the man with on the phone, Nigel thanked his lucky stars for the cleanest cab he had ever seen in New York City. “You sure this is the place?” Emily asked him as they approached the doorman.  
  
“Andrea Sachs has given me access to her place.” Nigel waved his id card at the man, who simply nodded and let him through. “Come on.” He said as he pulled her into the elevator. Neither could stand the tension as they rode up the six floors to get to Andrea’s floor. They simply fidgeted in silence as they looked at each other and then back to the numbers.  
  
Rushing down the dingy hallway, Nigel pulled his keys from his pocket and ignored Emily’s scandalized gasp. “Why do you have her key?”  
  
Slipping it into the lock and turning it, Nigel shrugged at Emily. “When you’re living single it is a good idea for someone to have your key for emergencies.” Behind him Emily gasped, which drew his attention to the glowing interior of the apartment. Nigel ushered her in and quickly closed the door behind them. Standing with arms akimbo he looked at the glowing doorframe across from him, “I never noticed that door before.”  
  
Crossing to the door, Emily placed her palm against it and shut her eyes. Groaning, she dropped her hand away and straightened herself out a bit as she promptly headed into Andrea’s kitchen. “I did not need to know all of that.” She complained as she rifled through Andrea’s cupboards looking for liquor.  
  
“Is Miranda in there?” Emily dropped her jaw open and gave this crazy faced look, but nodded her head. Nigel continued. “Is she alive?” Waving her hand and pursing her lips, Emily nodded vigorously as she turned to go through another cupboard. “Um, I take it they are a mated pair now and are drained.”  
  
Emily scrunched up her face and waved a pointed finger at him when he finally drew the conclusion. “Hit that nail right on the head there, Nigel.” She turned in a circle eyeing all of the open cupboard doors and not seeing a single bottle of booze.  
  
Joining her in the kitchen, Nigel waved his hand. “Grab two glasses.” Opening the freezer he pulled out a very chilled bottle of vodka. “Do we need to call the doctor?”  
  
Setting the glasses on the counter for Nigel to fill, Emily shook her head. “No, no. We can probably just shove a case of Gatorade with a steak on top in through the door.”  
  
Nigel blinked at her and then finished her plan. “Oh, and then run?”  
  
Clinking her glass against Nigel’s, the red head smiled, “Indeed, indeed.” Then she tossed back her drink in one long gulp.  
  
Impressed Nigel followed her lead. “So are you cooking or getting the Gatorade?” Sighing he gave in and poured another measure for each of them. “Fine, we’ll go together, but it will take longer.”  
  
Giving an amused sniff, Emily teased, “They’re not going anywhere.”  
  
  
  
  
_**16\. Emily, why are the models looking at us like that? (466 words.)**_  
  
For the most part the photo shoot was going well. Miranda had only pursed her lips a few times. At least no one had passed out yet. Andrea had tottered off on some quest of Miranda’s, while Emily had stayed to corral the models. Usually they were trying to make sure that they weren’t eating or drinking—which could lead to stained couture. Sometimes they were trying to keep them from their drugs—runny coke nose or blood did not photograph well for a photo shoot for the masses. Today they all seemed to want to follow passersby with their hungry eyes and too real looking fangs. She had been prepared to defend the cheese cubes, but rounding up rabid models about to accost the populace was too much even for her.  
  
“Emily, why are the models looking as us like _**that**_?” The emphasis on the final word jolted the stressed out assistant back to her boss’ attention.  
  
The models had turned their roving eyes on Miranda and herself. A chill ran down the red head’s spine as reality sank in. “Remember that comment you made about skinny as a vampire and retaining their youth? Well, um, I thought I found some vamp wannabes.” Emily backed away from the small group that had turned their wandering attention on her. “I think I, um, found real vampires.”  
  
Letting out an aggrieved sigh, Miranda pursed her lips and then shook her head. “Was I reaching for the stars, Emily? I don’t think so.”  
  
Emily paled at Miranda’s words uncertain of which fate was worse: the approaching vampires or Miranda’s disappointment.  
  
Pulling a wooden stake out of her handbag, Miranda handed it to Emily. “Take care of this.” Turning on her heel, Miranda made sure to stay upwind of the vampires. “And Starbucks in twenty, Emily.” Slipping into the thick cover of trees that was not there a minute ago, she softly dismissed her first assistant. “That’s all.”  
  
Rolling her eyes at the situation, Emily flexed her palm around the stake to get a feel for it. “I love my job.” She fixed a glare at the approaching figures. “Right. Miranda needs you to finish the photo shoot, quit, or continue with this idiotic attack where I have been authorized to slay you.” When a few of the vampires shrugged and went to walk away, Emily called out to them. “Not so fast, leave the couture.”  
  
The smaller group grumbled and then began to slip off the clothes from the shoot to reveal bodies of smooth skin and supple curves that called out to the red head’s eye. “This isn’t what we signed up for. You didn’t let us snack the entire time.”  
  
Emily narrowed her eyes at the remaining vampires. “What’s it going to be? Fight or photo?”

 

 

 _ **17\. Andrea, run! (494 words.) Oh! I love my little monsters :)**_  
  
Taking in the ravenous look on the smaller monster’s face, Miranda took stock of the situation. The bigger one only had eyes for her, which worked in Miranda’s favor. If Andrea were not part of the scenario, then the silver haired woman knew she could take the scaly, slimy, furry duo with little fanfare. She wasn’t a high-ranking she-demon for nothing after all.  
  
“Andrea, run!” Her tone had barely risen above it’s normal timbre, but she knew the woman by her side had heard her from the way she felt the anger and stubbornness pour off of her in waves. “I out rank them, Andrea. If you go, then I can remind them of that.”  
  
The little one broke free of the larger one and aimed his whole existence on the brunette beyond the silver fox. With a quick sweep of an arm, Miranda had swept him back to his original position—only sprawling awkwardly on his back and hissing and gurgling his rage. The big one snarled, but waited—he wanted the silver fox alone.  
  
“Andrea, run!” This time Miranda fixed her lover with a glare to get her moving.  
  
After precious seconds the younger woman followed her instruction. The little one had regained his feet and rushed forward. The big one waited until the silver fox’ attention was diverted to his companion before he ran three paces and jumped with a heavy grunt.  
  
Waving both hands out to her sides, Miranda let her fury pour from her fingertips in Hollywood style blue electricity. Her red eyes fixed on the pair of lesser demons now focused on her in trembling awe.  
  
“Mine.” She chastised the little one for daring to covet what was hers. “Keep him in line.” Her piercing red eyes admonished the bigger one for letting his charge have too much leeway. “Go now and I will let you live.”  
  
The bigger monster nodded and then pulled the little one by his arm to leave. Miranda drew in her power once more and let the fire in her eyes fade to their human blue. “Bruce? What just happened?” The little one asked as they walked away.  
  
The big one motioned for the little one to climb the tree they had crossed over to. “You know the Boss, right?” When the little one turned wide eyes on his companion, Miranda smirked. “Well, she is about five levels of boss above him.” The little one lost his grasp on the tree and swung back against the trunk where he stared goggle-eyed at the silver haired woman joining her chosen one.  
  
“She’s got good taste in human.” He sighed as he watched the pair walk away.  
  
Down at ground level, Andrea turned to see where the little monsters had gotten off to. She spied them climbing up the tree and smiled. “Thank you for not roasting them. They were kinda cute.” Miranda just grinned and then wrapped Andrea’s arm with both of her own.  
  
  
  
  
_**18\. Silver eyes in the night. (968 words.)**_  
  
Andrea stepped out from the screened in back porch and peered into the lush darkness beyond. She knew that Miranda loved this humble mountain cottage perched on the edge of a National Park and she was thankful that she had been invited to share such a personal part of her lover’s life. They had been together nearly eight months; however the need for discretion and deliberately slow pacing to mesh their lives, with the girls included, meant that being lovers still felt incredibly new.  
  
The porch light only extended so far and Andrea slowly stepped closer and closer to where the darkness would swallow her up. It was bad enough that the brunette scared easily, but it being a full moon had put her on edge more than usual. Miranda had made a joke about finding her in the moonlight more than an hour ago. It was just that Andrea hadn’t thought she really meant it. Walking hand in hand through the forest on a wide path down to the lake to go skinny-dipping? Well, that she could get behind. Stepping solo into the darkness with no safety net of any kind? That had frazzled Andrea’s nerves.  
  
Silver eyes in the night greeted her the moment that she stepped out into the light of the full moon. She had wanted silver hair, but got silver eyes instead. “Miranda?” The frightened woman’s eyes filled with tears as she wrapped her arms about herself and stepped back into the porch light.  
  
A beautiful, snow-white wolf stepped onto the perimeter of light and whimpered at her. Andrea stepped closer to the porch as her mind jolted into about fifty different thought patterns. _Will it attack me? Where is Miranda? Why is it looking at me like that? Do wolves live in this state? Did they re-introduce them or some such business? Had the twins ever seen a wolf at the cabin? Where is Miranda?_  
  
Andrea did not move. Part of her wanted to, while a panicked part of her wanted to fling herself to the ground and curl up into a fetal position and cry. Realizing that the wolf had not come any closer, Andrea wondered, ‘ _Are they like horses? Can they smell fear?_ '  
  
Nonsense filled her head then. _For a fire—stop, drop, and roll. For an earthquake—duck somewhere sturdy if inside, shield face and neck, and when possible get out and away from buildings so they don’t fall on you. For a snake—back away slowly and keep looking at it. For a bear, goose, or mountain lion—fight back, be the bigger bear, goose, or mountain lion. You were likely dead if the bear or mountain lion wanted you to be, so fight back. The goose—well, you’d be embarrassed running from a goose—hence, you have to fight back. They have a nasty bite though—can break your arm._  
  
The sleek white wolf with those dazzling silver eyes, whined at her and stepped one step closer.  
  
Andrea stared at it then as if seeing it for the first time. It was beautiful, scary as hell, but it was pretty. ‘ _Pretty things are always dangerous,_ ’ she thought of her lover once more.  
  
“What did you do with Miranda?” Andrea asked the wolf.  
  
Tilting its head at her as if she was stupid, the wolf whined and pawed the ground with one paw. Andrea could just imagine Miranda waving her hand dismissively at the wolf.  
  
Andrea couldn’t help herself when she realized that she had equated her lover to a wolf. She wasn’t sure that had ever been done before and vowed that if she lived she would definitely tell Miranda the tale.  
  
“Did you attack Miranda?” Andrea asked.  
  
The wolf flopped down with a groan and put one paw over its face. Andrea felt a shiver run down her spine at this mannerism she could so easily see in her lover. In fact, her lover’s hair was exactly that shade of white and it looked just as soft.  
  
_A wolf in sheep’s clothing._  
  
The phrase flittered through Andrea’s mind and she knew that she had truly lost it, if she was thinking of Miranda Priestly being a wolf or a werewolf or some kind of shifter. Miranda had been so intent on bringing her here this weekend. In fact she had mentioned the full moon half a dozen times. Andrea tilted her head as she watched the wolf watching her with what looked like a knowing smirk of impatience. ‘ _What did Miranda say again? Come and find me in the moonlight, Andrea_.’ Placing her fists on her hips, Andrea glared at the wolf. ‘ _You have got to be kidding me!_ ’ She wanted to stamp her foot in exasperation, but if she was wrong she didn’t want to anger the predator.  
  
“Are you a wolf in sheep’s clothing?” Andrea asked the wolf. It perked up on its legs, but did not stand. “Are you the wolf and I’m the sheep?”  
  
Slowly rising the wolf kept its eyes on the brunette to make sure that the woman did not run away. Then with a mighty shake of its shoulders the body was covered in a shimmering cloud of motion as the wolf’s body stood up on two feet and changed and changed until her naked lover stood before her. “If I get to eat you, then you can be the sheep.” Miranda stepped forward, kissed Andrea and slowly walked them out of the light and into the darkness.  
  
“Ugh. You couldn’t have just told me to come outside with you?” Andrea smiled against Miranda’s lips as she let her hands roam over the smooth bare skin of the older woman’s body.  
  
Biting at Andrea’s neck with her still elongated incisors, Miranda growled. “Where would be the fun in that?”  
  
  
  
  
  
_**19\. The sound of claws on tile. (584 words.)**_ I have to say I was channeling the scene from Castle where they are in bed and Beckett scares the living daylights out of Castle.  
  
“What’s that sound?” Miranda pressed tightly against her lover’s back thankful for the calming heat and presence of another.  
  
Reaching her arm back, Andrea curled Miranda tightly to her as she reveled in the simple beauty of sharing the bed with her lover. “It’s just Patricia, dear.” Andrea hummed as she leaned her head back to nuzzle against Miranda’s lips.  
  
“They kept her overnight at the vet.” The words came out quiet and smaller in the darkness of the house. Their meaning cast an evil shadow in the room to accompany the sound of claws on tile.  
  
Lunging for the Maglite that she kept just at the foot of her bed, Andrea shrieked and danced, suddenly vertical on the bed. “Oh, my god, something touched me! Miranda!” More sound escaped her lips in ear piercing cries as she pulled at her hair, shook her wrist in fright and generally freaked the fuck out.  
  
Her loud panic abruptly stopped when another sound intruded on her fugue of distress—the woman in bed with her, the woman she loved and who had given her a ring and a new name was laughing. She was laughing so hard that she was hugging a pillow to her chest and tears were streaming down her cheeks.  
  
Jumping off the bed like a pixie on fire, Andrea flipped the light switch so that no shadow could hide anywhere. Her wide brown eyes fixated on the sight of Miranda’s victory. Indeed, that was the only description for the look on her face.  
  
“Oh, you should have seen yourself.” Miranda panted out as she waved for Andrea to come back to bed even with the light on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” Miranda wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
Rushing forward, Andrea looked under the bed where a subtle claw was rigged under the frame enough that the covers would have hidden its placement. Yanking it loose, Andrea held it up, pointing it at Miranda. “What did you use for the claw sounds?”  
  
Finally able to breathe properly again, Miranda placed the pillow back along the top of the bed. “In the bathroom.” She revealed.  
  
Andrea returned moments later with a small recording device that had been covered over with the tissue paper box. “So simple and so effective.” Andrea shook her head and then put both props in the walk-in closet where she could close the door on them. Taking a detour back to the bed, she splashed some water on her face and thought about the woman she shared her life with—rare was the day the beautiful woman didn’t surprise her. Crawling into bed and hovering over her wife, Andrea wondered aloud. “Am I forgiven now?” When Miranda nodded and leaned up to kiss her, Andrea acquiesced and then pulled back. “You know I was not the only one that pranked you.”  
  
Pulling Andrea down against her body, Miranda reveled in the press of their bodies together. She hoped that she never got used to it and therefore would never take it for granted. Turning them onto their sides, Miranda broke the kiss breathing hard. After a few moments, she smiled at her spouse, “Yes, but now you can help me to get them good.” When she purred the last word, Andrea shivered in her arms.  
  
“If I get the light will you still soothe my frazzled nerves?” Andrea pouted.  
  
Pressing a kiss to her lover’s lips, Miranda laughed. “I always finish what I start, dear.”  
  
  
  
  
  
_**20\. A cold draft whispered across the back of her neck. (980 words.)**_  
  
Visiting Andrea’s parents had been one of the next steps that needed to be taken for their relationship to have a real chance at success. Seeing Andrea in her childhood environment had only caused Miranda’s heart to swell as she saw how the brunette’s features lit up as she pointed out a landmark, dragged her (willingly) by the arm to meet yet another friend or family member, or shared a humorous anecdote being told by more than one person as they chimed in about the situations that a headstrong Andy had gotten herself into. Early morning coffee shared with Mr. Sachs had become a treasured quiet time of the day where she could engage in a conversation among equals without the trappings of her celebrity. In fact the whole trip was devoid of paparazzi or the general hysteria that usually went along with being Miranda. She wasn’t sure if the whole town had been raised with a gap in its world view that left out fashion, if they truly just didn’t care who she was as long as Andy was happy, or if her young paramour had convinced the whole town to leave all that behind during their visit.  
  
All in all, the trip so far had been undeniably pleasant. Even the barely full size bed in Andrea’s childhood room had held a special kind of charm.  
  
She had not been prepared for the Annual Harvest Festival complete with a corn maze and a haunted hayride. Shivering as a cold draft whispered across the back of her neck, Miranda snuggled closer to Andrea hoping to play off her fears as romantic behavior.  
  
Eyeing the driver, Andy kissed the top of her lover’s head. “Miranda?”  
  
Nuzzling her nose against Andrea’s neck, the scared woman murmured, “Hmmm.”  
  
Not buying it for five seconds, the brunette wrapped her arm around Miranda’s hips. “What spooked you?”  
  
Opening her lips and letting her tongue slid against her younger love’s pulse point, Miranda tried to get away with not answering.  
  
Smiling at this diversionary tactic, Andrea crawled two of her fingertips up Miranda’s spine. “You’re scared of the hayride.” With just the ghost of a touch against the older woman’s neck, Andrea smirked as her companion shivered. The tightening of Miranda’s fingers on Andrea’s thigh also answered for her. “Admit it.” Andrea teased into Miranda’s silver hair.  
  
Focusing on the heat between them, Miranda willed her fright away and walked her fingertips up Andrea’s thigh. She would not admit to being afraid on some country carnival hayride.  
  
Letting her leg fall open to allow Miranda easier access, Andrea rested her hand on the back of their seat as she turned more fully toward her lover. This semi-public display of affection was unprecedented, and she would enjoy every second of it, but Miranda needed to admit that she’d gotten spooked despite her claim of imperviousness before the ride.  
  
Delighting in Andrea’s response, Miranda successfully pushed all of her teensy tiny little fears away in favor of kissing her lover and teasing up the seam of her trousers.  
  
Knowing better than to spook someone mid-kiss, Andrea flexed the very dry fingers on her free hand and waited until Miranda had pulled back once in the kiss before leaning in again. Bending her arm up close to Miranda’s ear, Andrea sucked on her lover’s bottom lip as she pulled away again. Rubbing her thumb against her forefinger slowly and then with a sudden slide, Andrea fought to keep the dreamy love look on her face as Miranda jolted upright, squeaked and then looked around horrified into the darkened trees and creepy night around them.  
  
“Oh, what happened?” Andrea gasped as she held onto her lover with both hands. She had wanted to spook her, not cause her to fall out of the cart.  
  
Andrea thought that she had kept her face and tone neutral, however as they pulled into the light at the end of the hayride, Miranda could see the mischievous sparkle in the younger woman’s eyes. “You scared me! Was it you the first time too?”  
  
The brunette knew she had shaken the beehive, but she could not help holding Miranda in place as she laughed against her. Tears began to stream down her face, and still she could not hold back her mirth. Miranda growled against her, but did not push her away. “Oh, I had to, you just wouldn’t admit that something had spooked you. You just wanted to play it off by making a pass at me.”  
  
Feeling her heart rate beginning to return to it’s normal state, Miranda took comfort in the bright lights of the harvest festival and the slowing of the cart as they approached the line of waiting customers. “You’re so stubborn!” Miranda hissed in Andrea’s ear as she began to disengage her hands from Andrea’s body.  
  
Pulling away to look into Miranda’s blue eyes, the brunette snorted a laugh and then wiped at her tears. “I’m stubborn?” She wheezed out as she tried to breath normally. “You couldn’t admit to being a little spooked on a haunted hayride and I’m stubborn?”  
  
The cart rolled to a stop and Andrea hopped out on her side and reached back toward Miranda so that she would follow her. Pursing her lips, the silver haired woman stood and graciously made her way to the edge of the cart. Her eyes took in the assembled crowd including the senior Sachs and then dropped down to her lover. Miranda’s blue eyes widened and all thoughts of being spooked or even angry flew out of her head as a shiver of a different kind swept down her spine.  
  
“Marry me?” Andrea asked as she held up a sparkling ring and backed it up with the most loving look she’d ever shone at Miranda.  
  
“Of course.” Miranda stepped down from the carriage and into Andrea’s waiting arms.  
  
  
  
_**21\. Fog closed in around her. (528 words.)**_  
  
Andrea stood near the doorway in the back hoping that everyone else had run around like they should have making things perfect so that she could enjoy looking out around the scenery as they drove back across Paris to the afternoon shows. As the music started up, Andrea amused herself with watching the crowd as they jockeyed for positions near enough to clearly see Miranda, but not so near that they were within her reach. Andrea had opted for distance knowing that with her shifter eyes she could see great distances even in the low light of the show. Thinking of poor, poor Emily left behind in New York City, the brunette wondered if Emily would ever figure out just exactly how Andrea could detect even the slightest changes in their boss, physically tackle those errands, or get places on time. It was highly amusing to think of the subway when one could assume the shape of a crow and enjoy the views along the way. It also added to the mystique surrounding Miranda Priestly—how did her uncanny assistant just appear like that or hear that under the breath comment?  
  
The lights dimmed, everyone took their seats half watching the couture being shown off and half keeping an eye on the woman at the center of their world. Sniffing the air about five models into the show, Andrea focused her eyes on her boss. Things were not right. One nod was good and two was very good, but two head shakes and a rigid spine—that—well, that was very, very bad. Andrea stepped further into the room as the eighth model made her way down the runway. Miranda’s lips were pursed. Swearing to herself, Andrea stopped mid-step as she looked up and saw Miranda cross her arms over her chest. Their eyes caught across the room, which made Andrea’s heart rate double thump. With a quick flutter of one hand, the silver haired woman dismissed her assistant.  
  
Uncertain, Andrea returned to her place along the far wall to watch the situation unfold. She was not the only one who had noticed the editor’s displeasure. People were starting to whisper under the false cover of darkness.  
  
As the show drew to a close, the designer proceeded up the runway to a strange mixture of half hearted claps, groans of knowing awkwardness, and a large amount of static noise of shuffling that all covered for the icy silence emanating from the center front row spot always reserved for Miranda Priestly.  
  
All heads turned as the designer stood before fashion’s queen to see what her official reaction would be.  
  
As fog closed in around her, Andrea thought, ‘ _Well, Nigel, the pursing of the lips wasn’t the only catastrophe._ ’ Exiting the building so that she could come around to catch Miranda’s exit on the far side, Andrea wondered if they would ever see the designer again or if she had been exiled from this dimension to never, never land. ‘ _At least there, her designs would have a more favorable response._ ’ The brunette amused herself as she waved to Paris-Roy and turned to see Miranda emerging from the show.  
  
  
  
  
_**22\. She slipped through the door and into another dimension. (189 words.)**_  
  
The book settled, the dry-cleaning hung with care, and the alarm set—Andrea greeted the twins at the bottom of the stairs for a quick hug. “You two are supposed to be in bed.” She scolded them with a smile. At their twin groans of displeasure, the brunette simply pointed her finger back up the steps. “Do I have to have a word with Cara?” The look in her eyes let them know that the word would not stop with Cara, but would continue right to their mother. In fact as they turned to head back up the stairs they knew that their mother would hear the word first—if they didn’t hustle.  
  
On the landing they stopped to peer over the railing at the younger woman who had changed their worlds. Andrea looked up at them and winked. Turning to the door across from the closet, Andrea pulled the door open. As she slipped through the door and into another dimension, the girls sighed. They hated when their mothers took date night to a different plane of existence. It meant that they couldn’t track them anymore.  
  
  
  
  
  
_**23\. Dead eyes stared into the night. (369 words.)**_  
  
Caroline’s dead eyes stared into the night, but inside her mind was whirling. Once the spell wore off, her sister had better be under the invisibility cloak and tucked into the room of requirement. It was unfortunate to have such a cool sister because inevitably they would want the same things. Often enough they had fought as youngsters, however entering into this whole new world of witchcraft and wizardry they had declared a non-verbal truce. New York was hundreds of miles away and their mothers did not tolerate bickering well. Caroline wasn’t sure what had made her play up her interest in the same boy that Cassidy had been crushing on for weeks. Prostrate there on the floor and staring up at the darkened ceiling of the Slytherin girls’ dormitory, Caroline could admit that she was slightly jealous of her twin’s need to hang on Blake’s every word. It was annoying.  
  
In fact it was more annoying than being flat on her back given the cold hard floor she was on, while everyone else gathered in the common room.  
  
If Lisel came upstairs to check on her, Caroline would be mortified.  
  
It was true she had wanted to get a rise out of Cassidy by pretending to be interested in Blake, but she didn’t need to be further mortified by having her true crush find her petrified by her own sister. They’d say she belonged in Hufflepuff for sure once the word got out.  
  
Caroline decided that if she cried, then her sister’s punishment would double instantly.  
  
None of her socks would match. Her potions homework would be charmed to switch with her transfiguration scrolls. Her textbooks would make human body noises when they opened, pages were turned, or they were closed. Then thinking of the charm she’d read about in her mother’s library over the winter hols, Caroline would charm her pendant to make Cassidy’s voice sound like a frog. Continuing her motionless brainstorming session, Caroline would go back and look up that sticking charm she’d heard one of the older girls talking about the other month. If Cassidy could not take off her necklace, then she’d not be able to cast any further spells on Caroline.  
  
‘ _Oh! It will be heavenly_.’ Caroline thought, ‘ _If only I could move again_.’  
  
  
  
  
_**24\. She started running before the scream cut off. (499 words.)**_  
  
She had always thought that her mother was the queen of scary. That was until her stepmother turned into a zombie at midnight on the last day in September. The moment that October began, the brunette was an entirely different woman. It sure made Christmas a lot more interesting, since it was really hard to take down that much Halloween gear in time for the twelve days. Her mother, who had never compromised in her life before Andy, had found the happy medium of slowly adding tinsel to the spider webs until Christmas eve when at last everyone was sleeping all through the house.  
  
Caroline had always been a little uncomfortable with her stepmother’s love of all things ghoulish. However Andy had transcended into hero status after the haunted house her junior year. Two of the seniors at Dalton had been giving Caroline a hard time ever since she won a spot on the varsity field hockey team over their friend. Oddly enough the friend had sought out Caroline to make peace quite quickly after the tryouts, while the two friends had carried on with taunts. The girl had graduated, but the other two were now seniors and thought that they could lord it over Caroline.  
  
Watching the line, Andy had seen the girls waiting to get into their haunted house. She had sent Caroline inside to get her another lemonade. Caroline hadn’t even realized the girls had come to the neighborhood attraction. It wasn’t until she had come back around the side gate to see the two girls holding onto each other while running away and screaming, that she had realized.  
  
“Here, Andy.” The red head had held the lemonade out for the laughing woman.  
  
Taking a few moments to calm herself, Andy had stood up straight to look her in the eye. “Thanks, Caroline.” The disguised brunette took a long sip of the cold drink. “Your friends are so awesome.” Her tone gave away her sarcasm and warmed Caroline’s heart.  
  
“What did you do to them?” Caroline wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know.  
  
Biting her lip like she did, Andy feigned innocence. “Oh, nothing. Just told the group to give them all the bells,” Andy laughed as she watched Caroline’s jaw drop open. “And whistles.” Andy finished casually as she smiled sweetly at her stepdaughter.  
  
“All the bells…” Caroline repeated to herself as she mentally reviewed the ins and outs of the fabricated haunts.  
  
“That tall one…” Andy laughed as she remembered it. “She started running before the scream cut off on the Grudge display.” Patting the red head on the shoulder, she added, “It was awesome.”  
  
Caroline looked Andy over taking in the fun aspect of all of Andy’s spooky décor and ambiance. When looked at from that point of view and from the point of view of being able to get the scream on someone who needed it, well, it looked pretty awesome. Pulling Andy in for a tight hug, Caroline murmured. “Thanks, mom.”  
  
  
  
  
_**25\. The mist crawled up the hill. (203 words.)**_  
  
They had been playing cat and mouse with each other for months. Each testing the other for a reaction and then pulling away when they felt the enormity of their feelings coursing through their veins.  
  
This photoshoot and subsequent Runway slumber party in a haunted house—well, the brunette wasn’t sure whether it was a brilliant seduction or titillating happenstance. Andrea wasn’t sure if Miranda would use the magazine in such a way, but it just all seemed too good for Andrea to resist hoping. How Miranda would have known that Halloween was her favorite holiday, Andrea rationalized as Nigel letting her in on the secret.  
  
Either way, Andrea had made sure that her room connected to Miranda’s—even if it was by secret passage. Tonight would be the night. As the mist crawled up the hill towards their Hill House, Andrea tried to decide if she wanted to go with the scared damsel or the vixen of the dark. If Miranda loved Halloween as much as Andy did, which given the models she’d let Emily bring in for this shoot, then they’d get to play many roles in future Halloweens. It just came down to which one she wanted to start with.  
  
  
  
  
_**26\. Fog closed in around her. Redux. (1094 words.)**_  
  
Andrea settled in at the table next to Nigel. Things had been off all morning and she just hoped that Miranda knew what she was doing. Andrea could not have tried any other way (sky writing and the blimp were unavailable) to get the message to Miranda, so now it was time to hope for the best and celebrate Nigel on his future.  
  
Watching as Miranda took the podium, Andrea scooted forward to the edge of her seat. She wasn’t sure who was gripping tighter—herself or Nigel—either way their hands were sweating. Andrea heard words about the bright future of James Holt and Massimo’s exemplary vision… She thought she heard something about choosing from within the Runway family. However as the fog closed in around her, Andrea could really only make out Nigel at her side.  
  
Squeezing Nigel’s hand to be sure he was still at the end of her fingertips, Andrea shook her head wondering if the purple fog was going to be a _thing_ now.  
  
Once the air was clear, Massimo was congratulating Jacqueline and James at the podium while everyone clapped out their mindless sheep appreciation.  
  
Andrea yanked hard enough to dislocate Nigel’s shoulder, but he only turned and smiled at her in a dopey kind of way that the brunette refused to understand.  
  
Jumping to her feet, Andrea had half a mind to jump on someone’s head—she just wasn’t sure whose head should be jumped on. Only Irving Ravitz had returned to the podium with his own slightly dopey smile and a new announcement that Andrea was certain had not been there this morning when they all woke up. Never mind what bed they woke up in.  
  
“It is with great pleasure that I announce the newest addition to the Runway family, with Nigel Kipling taking over the new helm of Men’s Runway.”  
  
Nigel’s astounded look mirrored Andrea’s, but she had the sense enough to pull him out of his chair and shove him toward the podium.  
  
Watching the passing scenery of Paris, Andrea tried to put her finger on what had happened at the luncheon. The only person beside herself that hadn’t been sporting a decidedly dopey expression had been Miranda Priestly; however it was a rule, you did not ask Miranda anything. Emily’s voice in the back of her mind felt strangely comforting. She wondered when things would feel normal again and if she could just blame the international travel and poor choice of one night stand for her disequilibrium.  
  
Miranda faced out to watch her scenery pass by, though Andrea could not tell if she saw any of it. Andrea wondered just how many fashion weeks in Paris the woman had gone to over the years and thought that it must not be that interesting by now.  
  
“You thought I didn’t know. I’ve known what was happening for quite some time. It just took me a while to find a suitable alternative. I was very, very impressed by how intently you tried to warn me. I never thought I would say this, Andrea, but I really, I see a great deal of myself in you. You can see beyond what people want, and what they need and you can choose for yourself.”  
  
Andrea’s jaw fell open as she took in the epic length of Miranda’s speech in addition to the content of her words. “A suitable alternative?” Andrea turned to face Miranda, her utter shock blasting right through the never ask anything rule with abandon. “You just purple misted everyone, gave Jacqueline the job that was for Nigel and opened a new magazine?”  
  
Blinking at Andrea in confusion, Miranda slowly returned her question with one of her own. “Did you just want me to give her Nigel’s job and be done with it?” Turning to face Andrea on the backseat of the town car, Miranda narrowed her eyes at her assistant. “How would you have reacted then, hmmm? Walked off in a huff, perhaps, or thrown your phone into the fountain?”  
  
Screwing her face up in righteous indignation, Andrea waved her hand emphatically, “You can’t just do that, Miranda. You can’t just purple haze the world into one that you like better. It doesn’t work that way.”  
  
Reaching out, Miranda took Andrea’s hand from where it had landed on the seat between them and stroked her fingertips up and down along the lines of her palm. “I think you’ll find that yes, for the most part, I can wrap the world around the way I want to.” Scooting closer to her assistant, Miranda looked deeply into those brown eyes that just couldn’t look away from her. “I think you’ll find that when it matters, I don’t haze everyone, do I?” Miranda let her eyes wander over Andrea’s face taking in her eyebrows, the slope of her cheek and the alluring curve of her lips.  
  
Blinking rapidly to keep her head clear, Andrea licked her lips as she took in Miranda’s meaning. “You, you, you didn’t fuzzy fog me.” Her words came out like a question, but it was more of a realization.  
  
“Jacqueline wanted the pay raise and New York, she didn’t care how she got it. Men’s Runway was already on the list of projects for Elias-Clark. Nigel needed to spread his wings and fly. You needed to know that I would not warp your brain into any kind of lollipop version of reality.” Miranda’s low purring tone had Andrea leaning close once again.  
  
“I, um, I m-m-matter to, uh, you?” Andrea blinked as she realized the truth of her own words.  
  
Miranda pursed her lips and then nodded, “You’ll find that miserable Christian Thompson has a contract in Paris and no memory of last night.” Turning her head away, but leaving her body close and their hands clasped, Miranda sighed. “I am very disappointed in that, Andrea.”  
  
Easing her way across the seat, Andrea pulled their hands into her lap. “Not that it’s much of a memory, however I appreciate you not hazing me.” Miranda turned to look into Andrea’s eyes as she felt the fabric of her skirt under her fingers instead of the leather of the car seat. “I’d like to be important to you, Miranda.” The brunette leaned forward until her lips were a jolt in the road away from Miranda’s. “You’re important to me.”  
  
Then they were kissing, though Andrea wasn’t too clear on whether she had actually closed the gap between them, there was a pothole in the road, or Miranda had turned the wheel herself.  
  
  
  
_Hmm.  Yes, well, it is 27 even though it says 26 because of that blasted 11a.  That's why I don't do that with my chapters, it messes with the numbering._  
  
_**Fin.  
  
Happy Halloween. I hope that you enjoyed all the tricks and treats in this little collection.**_  
  
x


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